Unhinged
by SashaLikaMusica
Summary: Mona has been in Radley for months now, and it seems like she's made a friend - a friend who looks strikingly familiar. Mona slowly learns to trust her, but what if this friend knows more about Ali than she's willing to admit? Rated T for general PLL creepiness.


**A/N: This started out as a sort of tribute to Mona's time in Radley, but then it turned into a weird plot thing with "Courtney." I don't know if I'll be putting up more of it it'll just be a one-shot, but I'll let you guys know.**

**This is sort of an "in-between" chapter. It takes place somewhere in the middle of the story.**

_That buzzing noise means something. You don't get a buzzing noise like that, just buzzing and buzzing, without meaning something._

_-Winnie The Pooh_

One, two, three; four . . . counting . . . counting . . . counting . . . counting . . .

The room was barren, closed and standoffish, mimicking its occupant in every way. Dirty white walls and creaky desks; chipped white iron on the bedsteads. Cold floors and plastered ceilings, medicating regardless of effect or reason. The raindrops outside the window pattering on freakish nights – wailing, dripping, singing; counting.

At first, the gaunt, emaciated figure refused to acknowledge that the world still existed. Reason, lipstick, and designer labels gave way to a deep, endless void of a reality. A vacuum became her mind, until her mere existence ceased to matter. It took weeks, days upon days upon endless days, before she began to count things.

Raindrops, floor tiles – the notches on the wall. She tallied them faithfully, restoring a vague pattern to the world, as if in an effort to make sense of it all. Then the carvings on the desk began; the words, the faded hopes long overdue in their return. She counted the little white pills they gave her to swallow, no truth besides the relief she found in them.

_May the circle be unbroken _– the words had meant little to her then, but something in their resonance had stuck, giving her a meaning that she could not quite understand.

The other blonde girl, the one who reminded her so much of Alison (indeed, for all she knew, she _could_ have been Alison), kept her sane. Their quiet consultations in the abandoned children's wing at one in the morning woke her consciousness; resurrected her being. Plans were laid for after her release.

"They'll never let me out," Courtney would say, laying a smooth, garnet-ringed hand upon the thin, pale, wasted one. "I'm stuck in here for good, so anything I say, you'll have to do. I've lost my voice; I don't matter anymore. You know what that's like, don't you?" And she would nod, understanding completely – she feared leaving Radley, feared it for the thought of facing reality again. Reality was people, and emotions, and hate. But she would do it for her newfound friend.

"You'll be my voice, won't you Mona?" Courtney would say thinly, tilting her head minutely to the side with that commanding sort of shiver in her voice. "You're the only one who trusts me. I think you see me as I really am. That's nice – no one sees me anymore." And Mona would nod again, standing to leave, unfolding her crossed legs to stretch as the blonde remained on the floor. She turned to go, ready, she knew, for they had said that she would leave today. She paused at the door, hand on the withered, trembling knob, and at the last moment, she turned, the question framed on her lips, poised for escape like her own wild thoughts.

"Who were you?" she asked at last, hesitantly, after a moment of silence. "Were you really Ali? Or was Ali even real at all?" The young girl smirked in satisfaction, trailing a flawlessly-nailed hand upon the grimy floor.

"Oh but Mona," she fairly giggled. "Don't you see? Who I was doesn't matter – I'm different now. You know what that's like." Then her face darkened, and her eyes went haunted and cold.

"Alison was real," she hissed dangerously. "But that can mean many things. It doesn't matter who she was to begin with – in the end, you all became her. She's here, even when she's gone." Slowly, the lithe blonde unfolded her legs and stood, meandering leisurely over to the window. She turned back after a moment, azure eyes glimmering in her heart-shaped face.

"That was her legacy, Mona – to be remembered, even by her worst enemies. She's in all of us now. She's alive, even though she's not." Her eyes flashed with a spark of something Mona couldn't recognize. It looked almost like . . . regret. "Carry on that legacy, darling, and maybe when you're gone, people will see you everywhere, too."


End file.
